


The San Francisco Effect

by Tayefeth



Series: The San Francisco Effect [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acephobia, Drunkenness, Flashbacks, Flirting, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nonsexual Consent Issues, Pining, Racism, Racist Language, Severus Snape-centric, Sexism, Sexual Harassment, Written Pre-Half Blood Prince, if you're not willing to give Severus a chance you will not enjoy this fic, original publication dates in 2004, so much homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-06-25
Updated: 2004-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayefeth/pseuds/Tayefeth
Summary: The Wizarding World may have Polyjuice and related potions that alleviate dysphoria, but that doesn't mean European Wizarding Society has any use for homosexuals.Original summary: After five years in San Francisco, Harry returns to Hogwarts. Severus watches him slowly adjust to the fact that the dress code isn't the only aspect of Hogwarts stuck in the eighteenth century.
Relationships: None
Series: The San Francisco Effect [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898599
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was conceived of and largely written before Half-Blood Prince came out, much less the nonsense that came out of JKR thereafter. It is also written largely from the point of view of a character who was raised in a racist, sexist, and queer-phobic society. Harry is in his late 20s and has a crush on an idealized version of Severus which he's getting over. Severus is a rape and abuse victim in his late 40s who starts to latch onto Harry before getting therapy. It would be disastrous as a romantic relationship for a multitude of reasons. This story was begun more than fifteen years ago, has at least 17 chapters, and may not ever be completely finished. 
> 
> You have been warned.

“Our new Defense Professor has asked for someone to meet him at the Muggle airport in London. Severus, I’d like you to do that for me.” Minerva managed to make her order respectful and she did him the favor of not phrasing it as a request. Still... 

“Is there some reason why he cannot simply take the Hogwarts Express, or even apparate, like every previous holder of that title?” Going to Muggle London would mean dressing as a Muggle and allowing them to jostle him. Severus despised being jostled.

“Transatlantic apparition is tricky at best, Severus. Besides, Harry asked to be met.”

“Ah, that explains everything. If Harry Potter asks, we must all leap to obey.” Since the brat had managed, against all of Severus’s expectations, to not only kill Voldemort but also survive the battle, no Gryffindor had been willing to see Potter’s slightest whim disappointed. It galled Severus more than such favoritism always had. At least Potter had given him five years of relative peace.

“Severus...”

“No, no need to attempt to rationalize it, Minerva. I’ll do it, as long as you don’t expect me to gush over him as you would.” Severus swept out of the staff meeting before Minerva could invent new conditions for his servitude. Really, the woman was almost as unbearable as Dumbledore had been.

#

Not quite a week later, Severus found himself standing in the crowd at Heathrow’s Terminal 1. He fought down the urge to hex the squirming crowd into stillness. Fortunately, his severe black suit made him look sufficiently odd that the crowd gave him a little room to breathe. Unfortunately, it was also so warm that he felt cooked.

British Air Flight 286 from San Francisco had been announced half an hour before the first garishly dressed American tourist cleared customs. The few returning Brits mixed into the stream of tourists were so obvious that Severus felt in danger of being amused. Potter, when he finally appeared, was not only dressed as an American in a tight pink t-shirt and trousers that showed entirely too much detail, but was chatting with a similarly dressed passenger.

“You’re sure you don’t want to spend a few days with me before you’re shut up in that Scottish school of yours, Harry? I may not be a native, but I do know where the good clubs are in London.”

Potter laughed. “I’m sure, Lee, honest. I’ll give you a call when I’m settled, though. I’m sure I’ll need to get away for a night soon enough. Ah, there’s my ride.” The brat had the audacity to wave and smile at Severus.

Lee looked Severus over. “Well, you’ve got my cell and my email. If I don’t hear from you before I go back, I’ll look you up next month.” Severus’s wand hand itched to hex the speculative look from the man’s face.

Potter just gave Lee a peck on the cheek and waved him on his way. America had clearly not been as good for Potter as Minerva had claimed.

“You’re looking fit, Professor.”

Severus grunted. “This way, Potter. Unless you’d like to indulge in a little more public spectacle first?”

Laughing, Potter followed him towards the car park. “Did you bring a car, then?”

Severus glared. “Surely you jest.”

“Ah. I hate traveling by Portkey.”

“You might try apparating, like any normal wizard. But I forget, if you did that, no one would be forced to admire your celebrity.”

Potter blushed, shaking his head and chuckling. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Actually, I’m just rather bad at apparition, and I don’t enjoy splinching myself.”

“Harry Potter, bad at anything? Be still my heart.”

When Potter laughed, Severus felt the traitorous corners of his mouth tug upwards. It had been a very long time since anyone had found his sarcasm amusing.

“Besides, if I splinched myself all over Hogsmeade, Minerva would probably make you gather me up, and that would be worse than fetching me at Heathrow, wouldn’t it?”

Severus had to admit that the brat had a point.

#

Potter, as the resident symbol of Light, was predictably made much of by the other professors. Flitwick tutted over how tall the boy had gotten, Minerva fussed over Potter’s scars, Hooch asked him about American brooms, and Fleur turned the charm on high. 

“Ah, ‘Arry, it is so good to see you again. Perhaps we could spend some time together tonight after supper.” Fleur simpered in a way that made Severus want to hex her, but usually had men falling all over themselves to get closer to her.

To Severus’s surprise, Potter grinned without any sign of adoration. “Maybe some other time. I’d like to get settled in, first. Besides, I haven’t unpacked any of my pics yet.”

“Your peeks?” Fleur leaned closer to Potter. Severus pretended to be engrossed in picking at the varnish peeling off the arm of his chair.

“Yeah, I took some great pictures at the Parade this year. I think you’d appreciate the eye candy, Fleur.”

Severus was inordinately pleased to realize that Fleur had no more idea what Potter was on about than he did, but Minerva called the staff meeting to order before she could ask.

#

Potter’s manners had deteriorated sharply in his years abroad. Not only did Americanisms pepper his speech, but he touched people. Fleur’s arm when he chatted with her in the staff room, Minerva’s shoulder when they talked about the Gryffindors in the hall, Flitwick’s hand at supper in the Great Hall, and most unnerving, Severus’s arm, hand, shoulder, even back at any opportunity. It was maddening. Every touch reminded Severus of how Potter had looked at the airport. Bad enough that the prat’s well-developed shoulders and tight arse showed up repeatedly in his dreams. Having the memory forced on him during the daytime was too much. Severus snarled at him every time it happened, of course, but that didn’t seem to decrease the frequency of the incidents.

The students arrived three days after Potter, and Severus held out a slim hope that their presence would inhibit the touching. After the new brats had been sorted and they’d all been sent off to their dormitories, Severus retreated to the staff room, hoping for a moment’s peace before giving his usual beginning-of-term speech in the Slytherin dorms.

Potter had gotten there first, of course. He held one hand to his ear, chatting to the open air with his back to the door. “Yeah, it’s about what I expected, honestly... No, he’s just a colleague. I was surprised the Headmistress had sent him... No, sadly. To be honest, I’m beginning to think he’s straight... Yeah, in spite of everything.”

Severus stared. The fire wasn’t lit, even if it had been connected to the Floo network, so who was Potter talking to? So much for his moment of peace. With a suppressed snarl, he turned and headed for his office. With any luck, none of the brats would have found a reason to look for him there.

Just before he slammed the door, he heard Potter say, “Oh, shit. He heard me.”

#

Potter didn’t touch him quite as frequently after that, and Severus began to hope that he’d be left alone eventually. There were, to be sure, traitorous parts of his body that insisted that they didn’t want to be left alone. He ignored them. No one left alive could force him to admit to his perverted desires, much less act on them. His body would never again betray him to utter humiliation for mere pleasure or Albus’s assurances that he was serving the Light and atoning for his myriad sins.

#

“Potter’s a complete pouf. Did you see how he was holding his wand? It’s disgusting!” Sana Tersley’s squeal could be heard at the staff table. Minerva actually looked shocked. Severus froze, then forced his hand to continue conveying his toast to his mouth. Potter, on the other hand, chuckled. When Severus looked up, he was holding his wand in an extremely fey, limp-wristed grip, and grinning. “Shall I enlighten your Slytherins, Sev, or would you like to?”

Panic shot through Severus. He didn’t want to know what Potter thought enlightening his sixth years entailed. The horrendous nickname registered only belatedly. “I’ll speak to them. And don’t call me that, Potter.”

“I’ll stop when you call me Harry. Have fun.”

Deciding not to try to figure out what the brat was on about, Severus swept down on the Slytherin table to frighten some respect into them. Potter might be an idiotic Gryffindor, but he was still a professor.

#

His tirade had the desired effect. Severus was certain that the students continued to speculate about Potter’s perversity, but at least they didn’t do it where he had to hear about it. Not that Potter was doing anything to discourage the rumors. The brat seemed intent on living up to every stereotype, short of turning into Lockhart. He always wore something pink. His gestures featured limp wrists and frequent snapping. And he’d somehow managed to tame his hair so that it looked pleasingly tousled, instead of like a rat’s nest. 

And Severus really had to stop thinking about anything about that boy being pleasing, or he risked inviting his perversions into the open again. Just because Potter didn’t have an ounce of shame didn’t mean that Severus should let himself go. Besides, thought Severus, while Muggle society and the Americans might be rather lenient towards such behavior, wizarding society had never had any use for inverts who didn’t know their place.

The first Howler arrived just after Halloween. Potter looked completely baffled when it landed on his plate during breakfast but ran quickly out the staff door so the students wouldn’t hear it. When he returned, his pale face reminded Severus uncomfortably of the aftermath of battle. The muffled snickering from the Slytherin sixth years didn’t help matters.

#

“Mr. Potter, you’ll simply have to adjust. You are not in America any longer.” Minerva sounded weary. Severus stopped in the doorway to the staff room. Minerva didn’t lecture her Golden Boy so often that he was willing to miss out on the opportunity to eavesdrop.

“No, I’m in the bleeding eighteenth century. Minerva, it’s part of who I am. I’m gay. I prefer men, and I won’t hide that.”

“No self-respecting wizard would admit to such a perversion, Harry. Look, I’m not asking you to hide any more than any other professor. Just, be discreet, and try not to, ah, king so much, I think it was?”

“Queen. It’s fun to play the flaming queen, Minerva.”

“Well, it had better be, because if it continues, I may not have any option other than to fire you. That may have been the first Howler you got, but I told you about the others I’ve received.”

Severus could almost hear Potter staring at Minerva. When the silence had gone on for a count of thirty, he decided to humiliate Potter. “By all means, Potter, continue playing your game. I wouldn’t want to miss out on the spectacle of a Gryffindor Golden Boy being tossed out in disgrace for his notorious lack of self-control.”

“You...” Potter spluttered.

“I realize that you think disgrace is something that only happens to Slytherins, but I assure you that the Governors will not be able to retain your dubious services if you insist on parading ‘who you are’ in front of the students.” It felt delightful to see his malice hitting Potter hard again.

“Severus.” Minerva, for a wonder, did not sound particularly disapproving. “Harry, I am sure you can manage to behave in a more appropriate manner, and then the Governors will not have to become involved. Now, Severus, if you please, tell me about the trouble you were having with the second years?”

Potter continued sulking in the background while Severus explained the many failings of the current second year students.

#

Potter’s behavior improved over the next few weeks, aided, Severus was certain, by the clippings from old editions of the Prophet that mysteriously found their way onto his chair at the staff table. Those excerpts always featured some insight into how wizarding culture treated inverts, from accounts of ‘successful’ treatments to a graphic description, with accompanying photograph, of the beating given the young gay brother of a Mudblood wizard. Severus had had nearly forty years to get used to what perverts could expect, but Potter apparently found it difficult to swallow. Green, Severus decided, was not really Potter’s best color, despite of his mother’s eyes.

#

“Severus. Is this true?” Potter’s voice stopped him as he got up from the staff table. 

“I have no idea what ‘this’ might be, Potter, so I really couldn’t say. Perhaps one of your adoring fans could enlighten you.” Severus gestured towards the knot of Gryffindors trying to watch Potter without staring. Potter had mentioned something about chaperoning the excursion to Hogsmeade that morning. Severus had planned to spend day pleasantly curled up with the latest copy of Potions Quarterly and his usual scroll of letter parchment. 

Potter crumpled the scrap of newsprint in one hand. The pink had disappeared, mercifully, but Potter’s habit of touching reasserted itself. He placed a hand on Severus’s upper arm. Severus stepped back, and Potter flinched. “Did they really do this to you? Curse you so that you couldn’t... to make you stop...”

Fury swamped Severus. Potter dared to discuss him, in front of the entire school. “Mr. Potter, you may have no shame and enough celebrity to protect you from the consequences of your actions, but not all of us are so readily indulged.” He kept his voice to a low hiss only with an effort that turned his face crimson. Trying to keep his dignity as close as his robe, he strode out of the staff door.

Potter followed him, of course. The brat had never known when to let well enough alone. “So, it’s true, then. They cursed you.”

A small corner of Severus’s mind noted that Potter sounded saddened by the idea of his treatment. “No, Potter. They did not curse me, as you so romantically believe. The Praeventatis treatment was a blessing.”

Potter looked stunned. The little wretch, wrapped up in his delusions of invincibility and pleasure, couldn’t begin to imagine how Severus had welcomed the absence of his perverse desires. Severus closed his eyes and wished Potter away. He should be glorying in disabusing Potter of his innocent notions, but it hit too close for comfort. Damn Albus anyway.

“So... you don’t have any, ah, physical desires anymore?” Wishing had, as usual, not helped a bit where Potter was concerned. Damn him for standing so close. Potter touched him again, a gentle stroke down his upper arm. Severus jumped away.

“Keep your sodding hands off me, Potter.”

Potter had that all-too-determined look on his face. “If you answer my questions. Did the curse, the treatment, did it stop you from feeling physical desire?” 

Severus felt for his wand as Potter backed him against the wall. Where was Minerva when he needed her? She was always underfoot when he was giving the brats what they’d earned. “Yes.”

“Does it make you attracted to women?”

“No! Potter, what in Merlin’s name gives you the right to ask such questions!”

“I’m just trying to understand! Can it be reversed?”

Damn you, Albus. “Yes, but only once.” Severus felt his voice crack and closed his eyes.

Potter was mercifully silent, but he didn’t leave. Severus felt Potter’s hand touch his cheek, ever so gently, as if Potter were afraid Severus would break. Severus felt about to break, but Potter’s Gryffindor compassion only made it worse. He tried to jerk away, but Potter had him trapped in a corner of the hall. “I answered your sodding questions, Potter.”

“So, if someone were treated, and the treatment got reversed, and then they underwent the Praeventatis again, it couldn’t be reversed a second time? It would be permanent?”

“No, Potter. That someone would go very messily insane under the second treatment. So you cannot have it reversed only for holidays.” Severus watched Potter through slitted eyes. The boy looked sick to his stomach.

“I’m... I’m sorry, Severus.”

#

That night, Severus dreamt of the blasted boy.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” as Potter handed him over to the condescending mediwizard who had performed his first treatment.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” as Potter delivered him to Voldemort after Albus had reversed the treatment.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” as Potter watched the Death Eaters rape and humiliate him.

Each time, the boy touched him, so gently, so carefully, as if Potter knew how close he was to shattering. First on his arm, then on his cheek, then on his back.

Severus woke in a cold sweat just before Potter touched his arse.

#

Potter sat in one of the large armchairs in the staff room, talking to himself again as Severus came in for a cup of tea. Meetings with Headmistress McGonagall did not involve the endless parade of tea and sweets that Albus had pushed on him, and Severus found that he actually craved the beverage occasionally. He glanced at Minerva. Surprisingly, she seemed to find nothing unusual about Potter’s habit of talking to himself.

Ignoring the truism that eavesdroppers never hear anything pleasant, Severus drifted closer to Potter’s chair.

“Yeah, I did talk to him... No, he is, but... Just because I’m your type doesn’t mean I’m everyone’s type, Lee... Yeah, I think you’re right... No, that’s not it... Well, I think his, his family’s really homophobic, and, well, the school’s really rather Victorian about the whole thing... I’d get sacked, Lee, on the spot. In fact, I may get sacked anyway, because he’s listening right now. I’ll call you.”

Severus scowled as Potter took his hand away from his ear and looked at him. The brat looked resigned rather than apprehensive. “I don’t see why you would get sacked for talking to yourself, Potter. Albus certainly did enough of it.”

Potter grinned at him. “Wasn’t talking to myself.” He opened the hand he’d had against his ear. A shiny, very obviously Muggle device lay blinking in the center of his palm. Severus was certain he was wearing a look of profound ignorance. “Mobile phone,” Potter said. Severus nodded as if he understood the explanation.

As usual, the brat had discarded his teaching robe before sitting down and wore only the same style of trousers he had worn the day Severus had been forced to retrieve him from the Muggle world. Potter tucked the device into a pocket and stretched his legs. “I guess I can be glad you only heard my end of the conversation.”

“Oh? Would it embarrass you if the other ends of the conversation were audible?” Severus had found himself lacking ways to torment Potter since their conversation in the hall.

Potter chuckled. “Undoubtedly. And you, and Minerva, and most of the students bright enough to understand it. Not that I think that would be all that many of the students. Lee tends to be rather lewd.”

Severus tried to recall the conversation as he had heard it. “Ah...”

Potter got to his feet. When had the blasted boy developed grace? Close enough to have no fear of his murmur being overheard, Potter said, “Would you enjoy listening to his suggestions, Severus? His descriptions of how I should seduce you? You’d have the pleasure of seeing Minerva sack me immediately afterwards, after all...”

Flustered, Severus shoved at Potter’s chest and fled the staff room.

Later, in spite of his efforts to collect himself enough to complain to Minerva about Potter’s behavior, his fingers clearly remembered the soft, seductive heat of Potter’s skin under his thin cotton shirt. The memory was more distracting than it had any right to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry is such a Gryffindor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes nonsexual, nonphysical violation of consent (use of magic to force attention).

“Minerva, have you got a moment?” Potter spoke up as the staff finished breakfast the Saturday before the Christmas holidays. Severus poked at the last of his eggs. His agenda for the day included entirely too many salves for Poppy Pomfrey, along with an appointment with one of his seventh years for ‘career counseling’, a task he had always despised. He dawdled, rather than actively staying behind to listen to the Headmistress and his nemesis.

“Certainly, Harry. What can I do for you?” Minerva patted her mouth with her napkin as Potter sat on the edge of the chair next to her.

Potter kept his voice low and rushed, but the House Heads sat near the Headmistress, and Severus had little trouble hearing him. “I got to wondering last night, I mean, I never thought about it while I was at school, but it occurred to me that none of my colleagues are married, to my knowledge. So, I checked my contract again. There’s nothing in mine that specifically says Hogwarts professors have to be single, but there is that morals clause. So, my question is, if I found someone, I mean, someone permanent, would that be a problem?” 

Severus couldn’t see Minerva’s expression, but she sounded as if she’d just bitten into an extremely sour lemon. “Mr. Potter, if you indeed reread your contract, the answer to that should be obvious.”

“It said that arrangements would be made for spouses, as necessary, but neither Muggle nor wizard law allows me to marry.”

“Oh? As I understand it, you are legally permitted to marry the woman of your choice, just as any other man is.”

Potter closed his eyes, and Severus saw pain in the shadows around them. He wondered if that would have an effect on Minerva. Potter opened his eyes and Severus concentrated on his gelatinous eggs. “Minerva, you’ve known that women don’t interest me that way since before I signed that blasted contract. You told me over the floo that it wouldn’t cause problems.” Severus blinked, bringing a bite to his lips. He hadn’t known that.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but those are the rules.”

“And bringing someone here without being married would be a violation of the morals clause.” Potter didn’t make a question of it. Instead, he swore under his breath. “So, I’m stuck being celibate while I’m here.”

“Harry, my dear, there is no reason why you cannot find a... companion away from Hogwarts, so long as you are discreet. You had said you were planning to return to San Francisco for the holidays.”

Severus smirked. Minerva’s tone made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to know what Harry did off the Hogwarts grounds. Trust Gryffindor morality to be more concerned with appearances than realities.

“I don’t want that, Minerva.” Potter sighed, pushing back his chair and standing. “Perhaps you’ll be needing another Defense professor next year after all.”

#

Potter disappeared for the Christmas holidays, and Severus had ten blessed days free of his flaunting. He used the time to catch up on his reading, finishing Potions Quarterly and Chemical Potions Journal. He wanted to attempt to duplicate one of the experiments in the most recent CPJ. Aristide Figg had never yet managed an experiment that Severus couldn’t poke gaping holes in. Of course, Figg had the backing of a corporation, and several marginally competent assistants, while Severus labored in entirely unsatisfactory conditions. His own fault, he knew. No company would hire an ex-Death Eater and untreated homosexual without being neck-deep in Dark Magic Severus really didn’t want to touch (again).

He reread Figg’s article and consulted his notes. Even Hogwarts could furnish the resources to prove this farce wrong. Almost humming to himself, he took his notes with him to the staff room to grab a bite to eat before the students returned. 

Severus shouldered the door open, his eyes on his parchments. Minerva sat in her usual chair by the fire, toasting her toes with the excuse of being on hand if anyone needed to Floo her. Filius perched on his high stool next to Xiomara, chatting about some Charm or another. None of them would be inclined to bother him while he helped himself to a sandwich and a quiet corner. Perfection.

Potter, as usual, destroyed Severus’s perfection. “Hello, everyone. Did you miss me?” Filius and Xiomara stopped their conversation to greet him, and Minerva smiled. None of them answered his question, to Severus’s relief. He couldn’t bear Potter-worship while he tried to dissect an experiment. Potter tossed something to Minerva before heading for the sandwiches on the sideboard. Minerva smiled indulgently as whatever it was landed in her lap. “Oh, for you, for you, and, of course, for you.”

Severus refused to look up to see what the boy handed out to his colleagues. That proved to be a mistake. As soon as Filius and Xiomara had gone back to their conversation and Minerva back to her nap, Potter snuck up on him.

“So, did you miss me?” Potter’s voice had no business being that smooth, or that close.

“Terribly. Now back off, so that I can try again.”

Potter chuckled. Pitching his voice for Severus’s ears alone, he said, “I will, but I did bring something back from the Bay Area for you, too.” A small, flat box, wrapped in absurdly colorful paper, sat on Potter’s extended hand. “I would have tossed it to you, but I’ve been told that Pacific Kelpie Hair is more fragile than the Atlantic variety.”

Severus stared at the box, unwilling to look at the giver. The Ministry didn’t regulate kelpie hair. It didn’t need to. Taking it without the kelpie’s permission rendered it ineffectual and fragile only began to describe it in its unadulterated state, but it had a powerful effect on transformations of the body. Forget Figg’s pathetic attempts at experimentation. With high quality kelpie hair, he might finally perfect his Wolfsbane Potion. Of course, there had to be a price. No matter how much money Potter had, he couldn’t go around giving rare magical ingredients as gifts. Hoping he could pay the price, Severus reached for the box.

Potter’s fingers closed around it. “I know you expect to pay a price for this, assuming you believe it’s genuine, so I’ll tell you what it is before you open it. There’s a pamphlet under the wrapping paper. The box will open when you’ve read it.”

Severus stared for a long moment before he moved to take the box from Potter. He could read anything the boy had included. He didn’t have to believe it. He would burn it as soon as the box opened. His fingers closed on the box, lightly brushing Potter’s hand. Leaving his notes and his half-eaten sandwich behind, Severus hurried down to his laboratory.

#

Half an hour later, Severus wished he’d never accepted Potter’s blasted gift. The pamphlet, no, pamphlets lay on his desk. The arrogant young man had included two. One, directed at ignorant children, brightly proclaimed “Be Yourself”, while the other, directed at ‘concerned educators’, purported to have “Just the Facts”. Both were Muggle publications, but Potter had charmed them to scroll as he read. Insulting, that’s what it was. Severus was neither a child nor had anyone ever mistaken him for a ‘concerned educator’. And both publications insisted that there was nothing wrong with being homosexual, nothing abnormal about dreaming, fantasizing only about men. Both publications also insisted that attempts to cure homosexuality were misguided at best.

The box of kelpie hair, smelling faintly of ocean breezes, sat open and ignored while Severus tried to decide if he believed a single word he’d read.

#

“I have had it with him, Minerva.” Severus let the heavy door to the Headmistress’s office slam behind him. He flung the pamphlets Potter had given him at her as she stepped into the office from her sitting room.

“What?” A smooth wave of Minerva’s wand gathered the pamphlets to her, while she kept an eye on Severus, who had begun pacing the room.

“It’s not enough that he flaunts his supposed immunity from the rules the rest of us live with, not enough that he threatens to make my incurable homosexuality public and ruin my life. No, that’s not enough for Harry Bloody Potter. He has to force me to read Muggle literature written for teenagers and mental incompetents.”

Minerva snuck a peak at the pamphlets. They had that all-too-earnest look that screamed ‘made by Hufflepuffs’ and always drove Slytherins insane. They had been charmed, before Severus had ripped each one into large pieces, with an Undivided Attention spell far too strong for casual use. Her lips thinned.

“Severus.” Minerva attempted to interrupt the tirade.

“I am not a ‘questioning youth’, Minerva! I know what I am, and I know my place. If you cannot prevent him for harassing me, I will resign.”

“Severus! Sit down.” Minerva rubbed her temple as the Headmistress Voice cut through Severus’s ranting. When the young man sat, she looked at him. “Severus, you know that I have never accused you of not knowing your place. You know that I disagreed with Albus’s decision to reverse your cure. We would have found other ways of getting information out of Voldemort’s supporters, without forcing you to encourage your body’s perversions. However, that is all past.” She held up a hand before Severus could protest. “I will speak to Professor Potter about his behavior. All of his behavior. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Severus.”

Minerva thanked Merlin that Severus knew a dismissal when he heard one, and that he actually left. A murmured spell reassembled the pamphlets, and Minerva began reading. She owed it to both Harry and Severus.

#

Minerva kept Harry waiting while she read the pamphlets. She expected that he had heard all of Severus’s tirade. She had never known him to avoid listening in on conversations not meant for his ears. She pursed her lips as she fingered the scraps of Muggle ‘self-help’. Severus and Harry were much alike in that.

Harry slipped into the office. Minerva noted with not inconsiderable satisfaction that he seemed pale, and rather subdued. “Minerva, I didn’t mean it the way Severus said, honest.”

Minerva waved aside Harry’s protestations. “I am not really inclined to be lenient, Harry. Even if I were to accept what these horrendous Muggle papers say, there is still the matter of the Charm used on them.”

“Charm? Oh, shit.” Harry crumpled into one of Minerva’s chairs.

“Language, Mr. Potter!”

“I’m sorry, Minerva, truly. I charmed the whole batch for the outreach center. I thought I’d set aside one of each of them before I cast the charm, but I must have grabbed the wrong ones. Oh, bu-bother. He’s never going to forgive me, is he?” Harry put his face in his hands, drawing his knees up and curling into the chair as if he were once again a miserable first year.

Minerva tapped the papers once with her wand. A murmured “Finite Incantatem” cleared the charms. Severus ought to have done that himself, of course. Much as she appreciated Severus’s ability with Potions and the Slytherins, she did wish he showed a tad more practicality in mundane, trivial matters.

Harry really did look miserable. The boy had never cried audibly, but he looked as bereft as he had when he’d come back from Ministry, the day Sirius had died. Minerva set the pamphlets aside and pinched the bridge of her nose. She remembered campaigning against Albus’s plan to reverse Severus’s treatment. Severus had found some measure of peace, though not enough for him to forget, as he put it ‘who he was’. Albus had insisted, for the sake of the cause, for the sake of the Wizarding World, and Severus, his adoration of the late Headmaster undimmed by his treatment, had agreed. Now Harry had barged in and disturbed the even more fragile peace Severus had constructed on the wreckage Albus had left. If Harry hadn’t been the best Defense professor Hogwarts had seen in well over a decade and been one of Minerva’s favorite students, she could cheerfully have fired him for that alone. She sighed. 

Harry looked up, wiping his face on a hastily conjured handkerchief. “I’m truly sorry, Minerva.”

“I suggest, Mr. Potter, that you stay away from Severus for the next few weeks, at least.” Minerva saw the boy’s tiny flinch at her use of Severus’s name and not his. “I will let you know what I’ve decided.”

“Yes, ma’am. I... Please don’t let Severus resign over this, ma’am. It’s my fault, and I’ll leave if he can’t stand working with me.”

Minerva’s smile lowered the temperature in the tower office by several degrees. “I certainly agree, Mr. Potter. Good day.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies come in a variety of forms.

For the rest of January, Severus saw very little of Potter. Whenever he entered the Great hall for a meal, Potter made his excuses. Potter arrived early at staff meetings and sat in a corner, where Severus could avoid even acknowledging his existence. Minerva had arranged their evening patrols so that they didn’t even pass each other in the halls. Severus knew he should be grateful, but instead he felt unsettled. Whenever he saw Potter, remembered phrases from the pamphlets tormented him.

He saw Potter pat his mouth with a napkin, and heard words directly from those blasted pamphlets, in his own mental voice. “Some people will accept you, and some won’t.” He snarled in Potter’s direction, and tried to be satisfied with the contrite, though not intimidated, expression on the boy’s face. He didn’t need any acceptance other than what he already had. When he caught Minerva watching him, he turned his back on Potter.

Severus thought that it was particularly cruel that the American slang for not parading one’s homosexuality around was “being in the closet”. Every time that phrase occurred to him, he thought about that damned incident with the boggart and Neville Longbottom. His mind insisted on playing that phrase at least once a day when he saw Potter leaving the Great Hall. It was, he thought grimly, enough to drive saner men than himself quite mad.

#

The snow had turned to gray slush in an unusually early warm spell. All of the eligible students had scampered off to Hogsmeade for the day. Sinistra had showed up at Severus’s office door and informed him that the Headmistress had agreed that he should have the day off. Severus had, of course, maintained that his Slytherins needed to have their Head of House around, but Sinistra had insisted that she could substitute for a few hours without any disastrous results. Severus had strong doubts, but when Minerva confirmed the order by Floo, he had acquiesced. 

Having no clear idea of what to do with such an unheard-of thing as a day off, Severus took his new Chemical Potions Journal and headed for the library. Unfortunately, Madam Pince pounced as soon as he entered, complaining about the behavior of his first year Slytherins and the equally offensive behavior of two of the seventh year Potions references he had asked her to set aside. The first years had been caught with spitballs, and the texts refused to open for all but his brightest three students. Promising to speak to the brats and to come in another day to deal with the texts, Severus retreated. With his office commandeered and the library hostile, Severus had to choose between the staff room and the outdoors. He could have withdrawn to his quarters, but since the entrance was through his office, Sinistra would know. She would tell Minerva, and she would nag Severus until he exploded. Potter was likely to be lurking in the staff room, so Severus trudged towards the doors of the castle. With the way his day was going, the rain would begin when he reached the edge of the grounds.

#

When Severus got to the entrance hall, Argus Filch was scowling at three Gryffindor third years. “Put some effort into it, boys. That wall won’t clean itself. Morning, Professor.” Filch nodded to Severus, and the three boys looked at him before turning back to their task. They each had a bucket and a sponge, and they were polishing the section of the entrance hall inscribed with the names of those who died during the war against Voldemort. Given that the inscriptions were only a few years old, they should just about clean themselves.

“Good morning, Filch.” Filch, as Severus expected, shuffled over to join him as he watched the Gryffindors. Lowering his voice, Severus asked, “Was this the worst you could find for them?”

Filch shook his head. The man’s scowl managed to deepen. “No, sir. I’ve plenty of toilets as need cleaning. Professor Potter insisted they had to polish this wall. Something about inspiration for an essay they’re to be writing after.”

Severus smirked. “I see. Letting the Gryffindors off easily again?”

Filch cackled. “Not so’s they tell it. Right cranky about it, they are. Even heard one of them try to give you credit for Professor Potter’s choice, sir.”

Severus stiffened. “Surely not. Though I suppose such idiocy is only to be expected of Gryffindors.” Filch could spend the entire morning talking about detentions he had to give and detentions he wanted to give, if Severus let him. With a precise nod, Severus swept past the students and into the thin daylight of the early Scottish spring.

#

Silence had become more than a habit for Severus. After a lifetime of avoiding notice, it took more effort to move noisily than silently. Besides, he enjoyed the drama of appearing unnoticed and catching others unaware. Potter, on the other hand, made lack of observational skills into an art form. The boy barely noticed what other people waved under his nose, much less what happened on the edges of life. Not that Severus minded, per se, especially when it gave him time to listen to the boy talking into that blasted Muggle device of his.

Potter sat under one of the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, near the ruin of Hagrid’s hut. Professor McGillicuddy preferred to live in the castle proper, and since he didn’t have Hagrid’s unfortunate tendency to keep creatures in need of constant supervision, Minerva had agreed. Potter, of course, seemed to be sentimentally attached to the wreckage Hagrid’s half-brother had made of his cottage. Severus told himself that he wanted to find a shady spot to read, but somehow that ended up being close enough to listen to Potter’s conversation.

“... what the courts said. I envy you. There’s no chance here.”

“I’m sure he was, Lee, but I doubt he was my type.”

Potter laughed. “Thin, dark, gorgeous, smart, and sarcastic, Lee. Get it right, would you?”

“Not much chance to get out, even if I wanted to.”

Potter snickered again. “I keep telling you: I’m a pouf, not a fag, and no, I haven’t had anyone since I took the job. Haven’t really wanted anyone other than him, to be honest. Oh, and Lee, now I’m going to have that song stuck in my head all day.”

Severus frowned. Why would anyone call Potter a fag? Wasn’t that what Muggle-borns called those horrid tobacco-cigarettes?

Potter choked on his laughter. “No. No, Lee. I’d get fired. Believe it or not, there’s a morals clause in my contract.”

“Unlikely. I don’t expect you to understand, Lee, but... Yeah, that.” Potter tilted his head back to rest against the rough bark. Severus had an unparalleled view of the smooth skin of his neck and the slight shadow where his beard would be if he grew one. Most wizards didn’t, of course, at least not until they reached their eighth decade or so and could expect not to run into unanticipated fireworks. The sight distracted Severus from the boy’s conversation for a few breaths.

“-gorgeous hands. And he’s brilliant, Lee. Even that rocket scientist you introduced me to that one time... Yeah, him, couldn’t hold a candle to him. And...” Potter ran one hand through his hair, playing with the longest end for a moment. “He’s honorable, Lee. He keeps his promises.”

Potter laughed, though Severus couldn’t see anything amusing about keeping promises. Merlin knew Severus had gotten into more than enough trouble by keeping his word. Potter shook his head, looking down at his knees. His hair fell to cover his face, though Severus was sure it had never succumbed so thoroughly to gravity when Potter stood upright. Severus had the confusing urge to brush the mess of hair out of the way.

“No, don’t. No harm done. At least he did it before I did something really stupid, like fall in love with him.”

“I don’t know that I have much choice in the matter, Lee. I’ve known he was my type for years, and since I got back...”

“Better go pick it up. Take care, Lee.” Potter folded the shiny Muggle device in two and sat playing with it, catching the morning sunlight. Severus watched him until he tucked it into a pocket of his robes and leaned back against the tree again.

#

Tucking his journal under his arm and stepping out as if he’d just left the castle, Severus accosted Potter. “Argus tells me you insisted that your precious Gryffindors not do anything so mundane as scrub latrines for their detention.”

“And good morning to you, Severus. That’s more or less true, yes.” Potter didn’t open his eyes, so Severus didn’t bother flaring his robes.

“Argus also claimed that those brats said I was somehow responsible for your choice.”

Potter opened his eyes and smiled. Other people had the annoying habit of falling into that smile and giving the boy whatever he wanted. Severus, however, was not other people. He scowled and focused on what Potter said. “They arrived late to class, complaining about you and your useless potions. I decided they could use a lesson on exactly how useless potions can be.”

Severus clenched his fists. “Useless?” He thought he managed to get every ounce of silken menace possible into that one word.

Potter held up both hands, wandless and appeasing. “I told Filch to have them polish the War Memorial, and to find three names of my choice on it. Then they’re to write me an essay, 30 inches at least, on how potions affected the lives and deaths of those three.”

Severus rocked back, relaxing slightly. It was an intriguing thought. The third years had been only eight when the war ended, and the last two years had been largely mop-up duty. The big battles were history, not memory, to them. And potions rarely figured in the big battles, anyway. “Which three?”

“Cho Chang, Zacharias Smith, and Ron Weasley.”

Cho Chang, deceived and killed by a Death Eater using Polyjuice to impersonate her lover. Zacharias Smith, poisoned when he’d been discovered as a spy. And Ron Weasley, who hadn’t died of a potion, but who had been the first survivor of one of Voldemort’s more inventive curses, saved by the antidote Severus had brewed. Weasley had gone on to get himself killed in an ambush, but he would have been dead thrice over without a potion. Severus realized that he’d closed his eyes. When he opened them, Potter was studying him as if he were Sybill Trelawney’s tea leaves. He hated to admit it, but “A reasonable punishment, Potter.”

Potter smiled that ridiculous smile again, and Severus turned away before he did something foolish. He swept off along the edge of the Forest, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t running away. Potter didn’t follow him.

#

Harry Potter’s neck and hair insisted on distracting Severus for the rest of that day. He ate a late lunch in Hogsmeade, in one of the quieter establishments avoided by all but the oldest students. Two witches sat at another table, talking in low voices. At another table, two couples enjoyed what was obviously a double date. Severus’s treacherous mind pictured himself sitting down for a cup of tea together with a lover, with Potter, in fact. 

For a moment, his throat tightened. He fiercely reminded himself that he had resigned himself to never doing such ordinary things when he was thirteen. The fact that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again, could get away with thinking about bending the mores that governed the Wizarding World did not mean that Severus Snape, despised ex-Death Eater, could afford to think about doing the same.

Severus’s subconscious took no notice, reminding him instead of the skin of Harry’s neck, the way Harry’s hair fell over his forehead, and the simple grace with which Harry moved. Severus held himself frozen, watching his hands. He had managed to think of the infuriating boy as ‘Potter’ for nearly seven months, in spite of the informality Minerva encouraged between staff members, but he was having no luck keeping that up now.

Minerva cleared her throat behind him. “I apologize for interrupting your meal, Severus.”

Plastering his normal sneer back on, Severus lifted his head. “No apology necessary, Headmistress. Would you care to join me?” Minerva had always seen his side in the past, but he didn’t expect that to continue if she found out just how difficult he found resisting his unnatural perversions. And he was certain she agreed that his urges, especially towards Harry, were both unnatural and perverted.

Minerva sat in the extra chair at Severus’s table. Not quite meeting his eyes, she kept her voice low. “I took the liberty of reading the... literature Harry gave you, Severus.”

A trickle of ice took the place of the blood in Severus’s heart. Minerva had called him “Mr. Potter” when she was defending Severus. If he was back to being “Harry” now, he expected Minerva to back her Golden Boy yet again. “I did some research of my own, Severus. As repugnant as I find the idea, apparently there is a significant portion of the mediwizarding community who believe exactly as those Muggles do. I do not want to know the details of what you or Harry do, and I expect you both to abide by the restrictions on guests outlined in your contracts, but after speaking with experts and reading quite a bit of literature both wizard and Muggle, I have decided that the restrictions on you should be no different from those on the rest of the staff.”

Severus fought to keep his jaw from dropping. He must be dreaming. Minerva McGonagall had not just given him leave to behave as if his homosexuality were normal, had she? Minerva gave him a tight smile and a crisp “Good day, Severus”, and then left him to stare at his teacup.


	4. Chapter 4

Severus quickly found Harry-watching his primary hobby, aside from potions research. Where before he had avoided acknowledging the younger man’s existence, now he arranged to be able to see him as often as possible. In staff meetings, he sat where he could watch Harry, as well as pay attention to Minerva. He began arriving at meals before Harry, so that he could watch him eat and chat with the other staff members. He listened to what the other staff members, and the students, had to say about Potter.

#

“That was the best Defense class ever.” Evan Mackay laughed as he and two of the other fifth years clattered down the stairs towards the Slytherin dormitories.

“Yeah. Did you see Weasley’s face when Potter took points from the Gryffindorks?”

“Did anyone miss it? He looked like his head was going to explode. Serves him right for making fun of your Patronus, Keith.”

Keith snickered. The Muggle-born had secured a respected place among the snakes early in his second year, when he’d dueled several Gryffindors to a standstill on his own. “You’d think the idiots would have realized by now that Potter doesn’t want House rivalries in his class.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason they’re called Gryffindorks...”

The boys disappeared into the common room, leaving Severus standing in the shadows.

#

“I can’t believe you went to Potter for help, Pris.” Two of the seventh year Slytherin girls stood under the eaves, trying to stay out of the rain.

Priscilla Allen shrugged. “Just because he was a Gryffindor? Come on, Jan. He’s been dead fair all year, and he’s better at explaining spells than Snape is.”

“I guess. It’s just weird, going outside Slytherin for anything.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you chosen a gown for the Leaving Ball yet?”  
Severus didn’t stay to listen to the rest of the conversation.

#

On his rounds after curfew, Severus thought about what he’d seen and heard. His Slytherins seemed to trust Harry, at least as much as they trusted anyone other than themselves. Could he trust Harry? He had trusted Harry in the last battles against the Death Eaters, but he hadn’t cared if he survived at the time. The image of Harry’s hands tucking an escaped strand of hair behind one ear wormed its way before Severus’s eyes. Risking humiliation at those finely scarred hands frightened him far more than risking death had. He couldn’t, he decided, make the first move. If Harry showed some interest in befriending him as he’d befriended his snakelets, he would consider the idea, but he couldn’t risk making a fool of himself first.

#

Severus hated grading papers. Not because they required a great deal of effort. Only rarely did he read more than a random paragraph or two before assigning a grade. No, they simply reminded him of how thoroughly he failed as a teacher. After three years, surely Mr. Dalton should have some idea of the difference between seeping and steeping. He gave the young Slytherin a ‘D’ and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The knocking at the door threatened to drive his headache into a full-blown migraine, which didn’t improve his mood. “Enter!”

Harry stuck his head inside. “Can you spare a moment, Severus?” A lock of hair fell into his eyes.

Severus growled away the urge to play with that obnoxious hair. “No. I’m grading, as any idiot can plainly see.”

Harry had the gall to look apologetic. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Maybe another time?”

Severus bit his tongue. How dare Harry be so bloody reasonable. “So you can harass me constantly until I let you speak your piece? Spit it out, Potter.”

“I noticed that you haven’t had a good Seeker since, well, in a number of years -”

“Since you killed Draco in your seventh year. What of it?”

“Ah, right, well... I wondered if you’d considered Ms. Harvey? She’s showing remarkably quick reflexes now that we’ve moved to practical lessons.” Harry leaned against the door frame.

“That’s what you needed to tell me? That you found me a Seeker?” Severus consciously mimicked Minerva’s cadences. Minerva had been so intolerably smug when she’d picked Harry to replace the incompetent Gryffindor had had the previous year.

Harry blushed. “Well, I hoped you’d consider her. That’s all. Sorry to have disturbed you, Severus.” Ducking his head, he left, closing the door behind him.

Left alone with his grading again, Severus realized that Harry had been waiting for an invitation to sit. He didn’t know if he found it more disturbing that Harry hadn’t simply barged in, or that he regretted the younger man’s consideration.

#

Harry stopped by Severus’s office twice that first week, and three times the following week. Severus caught himself anticipating, rather than dreading, the younger man’s visit the evening of the second Monday after the Harvey conversation. Harry only talked about his Slytherins, of course. Nothing of a personal nature crossed his lips in Severus’s office, unlike the conversations Severus had overheard him having on that ridiculous Muggle device.

Severus let Harry repeat his knock twice before answering the door. “Ah. You again.”

Harry glanced from Severus to the desk covered with fifth year essays. “Yeah, me again. Can you spare a moment, Severus?”

Severus forced his mouth into its usual scowl. “As you can plainly see, Mr. Potter, I have plenty of other demands on my time.”

Harry had the audacity to smile. “I understand. Perhaps another time?”

“Oh, just come in and sit down, Potter. Why are you haunting my dungeons this time?” Severus’s voice did not crack, and he did not hold his breath waiting on Harry’s answer.

“Well, since you ask so nicely...” Harry sounded uncertain. His smile faltered before taking on a vaguely professional air. 

Severus swept over to his desk before he did anything he might regret. He didn’t bother saying anything while Harry sat in the student chair in front of his desk.

Harry broke the silence. “Do you happen to know if Priscilla Allen would be open to a position as my assistant next term?”

Severus stared at Harry through a thin curtain of lank hair. “Why would you want her?”

“Well, she’s near the top of her class, seems to enjoy Defense as well as the younger students...”

Severus waved the explanation aside. “Why not one of your Gryffindors? Or a Ravenclaw? They’re always after assistantships.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, the current Gryffindor seventh years aren’t anywhere near the top of their class in Defense, and the only Ravenclaws in the top five have that damned Ravenclaw inclination towards the abstract. Do you think Ms. Allen would be interested?”

Severus nodded curtly. “You’ll have to speak with her yourself. As I recall, she expressed interest in Auror training in her fifth year, and I’ve heard of a few potential job offers this year.”

Harry nodded. “I suppose that’s to be expected. I’d better ask soon, then. Thank you, Severus.”

“You’re welcome. Now, if that’s all, I do have marking to get done.”

“Of course.” Harry paused in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe. “Severus?”

“What now?”

“I was thinking of going to Edinburgh for dinner tomorrow night. Would you care to join me?”

Severus stared at the young man blocking his door. Harry’s hair stood out in all directions. Not that Merlin himself could have made it lie flat the way Harry kept carding his hands through it. Severus suppressed the unbidden image of his hands running through that wayward hair. “Dinner, in Edinburgh. Mr. Potter, haven’t you passed the age at which such juvenile pranks are appropriate?”

Harry shook his head. “Not a prank, Severus. Just an invitation. Let me know if you’re interested.”

“I hardly think Minerva would approve of us absenting ourselves while there are students about.” Severus turned most of his attention back to the essays. The students really did become less intelligent every term.

“Minerva wouldn’t approve of me strangling Fleur while the students watch, either.” Severus froze, but Harry spoke up, apparently unaware that Severus had heard his muttering. “I’ll leave you to your marking, then.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two dinners and their aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains sexual harassment, drunken misbehavior, and painful flashbacks.

Severus, to his surprise, found himself enjoying dinner. Harry had not taken the excuse of knowing where the restaurant was to apparate both of them; they had taken the Floo. Harry had not chosen some garish Muggle establishment, but a tiny Wizarding restaurant run by some distant relative of the Patils. Harry had not patronized him by explaining the menu, but Harry’s pronunciation of the items he ordered brought a surprised smile to the waiter’s face.

Even more surprising, Harry managed to draw Severus out, asking about the Slytherins and Severus’s potions research. Severus deliberately tested Harry’s patience by indulging in a short rant about how inadequate the labs at Hogwarts were for true research. Harry not only listened, but asked semi-intelligent questions. It was enough to make Severus suspicious.

“When did you take an interest in potions, Mr. Potter? You certainly never showed any when it might have done your NEWTs some good.”

Harry wiped the last traces of tikka masala from his plate with the last scrap of naan. “Ah, a few years ago. I had the chance to visit Berkeley. I spent the day in over my head, and had to read up in order to make any sense of what I’d seen.”

Envy threatened to turn the delicious meal to poison in Severus’s stomach. The Berkeley Potions Labs consistently produced some of the best potions research in the world. Every Potions Master worth his cauldron had spent time there, or wanted to. Severus fell heavily into the latter category. And Harry Potter, who had barely scraped together an A on his Potions NEWT and who had never shown the slightest interest in research, had been there.

“Severus?” The tiny glances Harry was shooting at him made Severus want to bite something.

“Well, I suppose if it induced you to read, your visit can’t have been a complete waste.” The bitterness in Severus’s tone failed to wipe the smile from Harry’s face.

“I told Russ the labs would be wasted on me, but he insisted. Do you want pudding?”

Severus grunted, allowing Harry to change the subject. Harry recommended a thin rice soup for Severus and ordered something inordinately sticky for himself. Harry tried to chat about the students again, but Severus just glared at the food. He had enjoyed the meal, but that didn’t mean he had to admit to it.

#

Severus swooped in to breakfast the following morning with just enough time to grab a mug of coffee and a slice of toast. The walk through the more obscure corridors gave him just enough time to eat before facing his first class. He had thoroughly cowed the Hufflepuff third years, so they gave him plenty of time to wake up without causing any major accidents.

A free period before lunch gave Severus enough time to grade two classes of Ravenclaw essays and write up a pop quiz for the seventh years. They had NEWTs to pass in a few short months. It was high time he scared a few more of them out of his class.

Filius and Xiomara, the usual buffers between himself and Harry, didn’t show up until lunch was nearly concluded. Harry smiled at him several times during the meal, provoking small storms of whispers among the students. Severus ignored Harry in favor of glaring at the Gryffindors. The brat seemed intent on reviving the harassment he’d courted at the beginning of the year, and dragging Severus into it as well. Stupid Gryffindors, completely lacking in any sense of propriety. Minerva, on his other side, spent the entire meal talking about the Quidditch schedule with Sprout. Severus clenched his teeth. No matter what she had said, he knew she wouldn’t actually countenance a flirtation between himself and her Golden Boy.

#

Dinner proved more interesting. Fleur settled into Xiomara’s usual seat. Severus smirked. Perhaps Harry’s temper would snap. That would liven up the meal. Filius hesitated when he scurried into the Hall. “Ah, Severus? I wonder if you wouldn’t mind trading seats for the meal? I should like to talk to Minerva, ah, about some of the older Ravenclaws.”

Severus snorted. Lies grated worst in a squeaky whisper. Still, he couldn’t have asked for a better excuse to eavesdrop on how Fleur was harassing Harry. With the requisite ill grace, Severus stood and switched his chair and Filius’s tall stool. Sitting again, he couldn’t help wrinkling his nose at the lingering smell of overused floral perfume. And the Gryffindors complained that he didn’t bathe often enough: more evidence of blind anti-Slytherin prejudice and complete inability to observe.

Harry arrived as the food appeared in front of them. Severus watched from the corner of his eye, as Harry tried to slip into his seat without distracting Fleur from her meal. He didn’t have a chance.

“Ah, ‘Arry? Are you feeling quite well? I did not see you at ze DA meeting. I worried that perhaps you had fallen ill.” The twit sounded as if she’d been hoping for it. Shouldn’t she have outgrown the desire to play nurse by now? Severus cut his roast beef into smaller pieces than necessary.

“I’m fine, Fleur.” Harry kept his eyes on his plate. Severus found himself with an unaccustomed amount of elbow room. When he glanced to the side, he realized that Harry had moved his chair away from Fleur, and Fleur had followed him. 

“You should take better care of yourself, ‘Arry. You would not wish to be unprepared when you find Love.” Severus nearly dropped his knife. Fleur was fluttering at Harry. Her grandmother’s Veela blood didn’t seem to be helping her cause yet.

Harry’s eyes reminded Severus of a trapped animal. Severus smirked. He hadn’t been so amused since Lucius had replaced MacNair’s lube with glue right before the butcher went to play with his Muggle toys.

#

Severus resisted the urge to save Harry from Fleur’s increasingly heavy-handed flirting until he had finished his pudding. No one could expect him to give up cheesecake, after all.

Fleur put a slender hand on Harry’s thigh. “Come up to my quarters this evening, ‘Arry. I ‘ave some peeks of my own to show you.”

Harry shot a pleading glance past Severus, but Minerva didn’t react. At least, not that Severus could see. He could not recall a time when Minerva had ignored one of her Gryffindors in distress before. Harry tripped over his words. “I, ah, can’t, Fleur. You understand.”

“Mr. Potter promised to explain Miss Tersley’s marks after dinner. In private.” Severus let his irritation with both women cut through Fleur’s babbling. Standing, he looked down his nose at her. She glared at him. He smirked and swept out of the Great Hall.

Harry hurried after him. “Thanks. She’s getting more persistent every day.”

“And I suppose your Gryffindor honor won’t allow you to insult a damsel in distress.”

Harry sighed. Severus had expected at least a chuckle. “She won’t take no for an answer, no matter how blunt I am. And Minerva told me I can’t make a scene that might do the trick.”

Severus scowled. Minerva had a healthy dose of the prejudice against homosexuals that marked the wizarding world, but he really hadn’t expected her to allow this sort of behavior towards one of her Gryffindors. Especially after her comments about treating a potential homosexual relationship as normal.

“Severus?” Harry looked up at him in the dim corridor. Chewing on the corner of his lower lip and rubbing his thigh where Fleur had touched it, the young man made a perfect picture of uncertainty.

“What?”

“Ah, if I go to my quarters, Fleur will show up there.”

“So you want to hide in mine?”

“Actually... I think I need to get out of Hogwarts entirely for a while. I’ll leave Minerva a note, and I’ll be back before my hall patrol shift.”

“Where will you go?”

“Out clubbing. Want to come along?”

Severus stared at Harry. Had the combination of the Dark Lord’s interference in his childhood, Albus’s meddling, San Francisco, and now Fleur’s pathetic efforts finally driven Harry insane? Or had Harry simply decided to pick up where his dogfather had left off years earlier, attempting murder by prank? “I would rather spend the evening with that French twit, Mr. Potter.”

Harry’s face fell. “I rather expected you’d say that. Can’t blame a bloke for trying. Maybe another time?”

“I have no desire to watch you parade yourself for a pack of hormonal idiots, Mr. Potter. Now or in the future.” Severus sneered down his nose at Harry before turning and striding for the dungeons.

#

Several hours later, having graded all of the day’s essays, prepared for the following day’s lessons, and picked up the current issue of Poisons and Antidotes, Severus settled into his favorite chair to read before bed. He had just begun doublechecking the tables on a new mandrake-based multi-poison antidote when his door rattled. The heavy, irregular knocks confirmed that someone expected him to answer, even at this late hour.

Marking his place by dogging the edge of the scroll, Severus growled. “If you break my door, I will use the splinters to eviscerate you. Come in.” A small wave of his wand unlocked the door, and Harry Potter stumbled in.

Severus waved the door shut again. “Potter. To what do I owe this displeasure?”

Harry stopped in front of Severus. The alcohol fumes on the breath of the Boy Who Got Roaring Drunk dizzied Severus. “Said, didn’t wanna see me p’rade in front of other people. Thought maybe y’d wanna private show.”

Severus backed a step away from Harry. Unfortunately, Harry followed him. Another step and another, and Severus’s back hit his bookshelf. Sadly, it was the one stuffed with journals, not the one filled with heavy, hardbound tomes.

Harry trailed a hand down the buttons on Severus’s robes. “Aw, Sev, I’m good at it.” Severus tried to protest the nickname as well as the touch, but Harry covered his mouth with warm fingers. “I know you don’t believe I’m good at anything, but stripping’s kinda like Quidditch. More body than brain. Even you’ve gotta admit that I was good at Quidditch.” Harry’s thumb slid under Severus’s jaw, clamping his mouth shut. Lucius had done that. “I don’t want to hear your voice, pathetic pervert.” Severus could feel his other hand through the six layers of his clothes, sliding down towards his hip.

Panic overwhelmed Severus when Harry’s hand slid over his arse. MacNair’s hands reached for Severus through the years. He had survived the Marauders’ abuse, Death Eater rampages, and Albus Dumbledore. He would not roll over for a drunken Gryffindor. Throwing himself forward, he knocked Harry out of the way. Grabbing his wand before Harry could turn, Severus put the length of the room between them.

“Get out of my rooms, Mr. Potter.” Severus tried to ignore the shaking in his voice and his hands as he spelled the door open again.

Harry stared at him, some sense penetrating the alcoholic fog in his eyes. “Oh, goddess. I’m sorry, Severus. I’m so sorry.”

“Just Get Out!” Severus thanked every deity he could remember or invent when Harry stumbled out the door.

Shaking, Severus crumpled to the floor where he stood. His skin remembered the unwanted feel of gentle fingers sliding over his robes. His imagination all too eagerly added how they would feel on bare skin. Blood pooled in his groin as memory and imagination teamed up. Harry’s fingers on his arse, and then in it, stroking the sensitive skin that never failed to get a reaction from him. Harry’s voice uttering all the insults his previous partners had heaped on him while using his body. Whore, slut, cocksucking pervert, seducing real men with the needs of his arse. The list swirled in his ears. He had spent the past five years trying to forget the truth in those insults, and Harry brought them all back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus remembers Lucius (and not fondly). Harry gives Severus a gift.

Lucius’s bored drawl snaked through Severus’s dream. “Roll over, you idiot. Do you think I want to see your face, pervert?” Hard, smooth hands yanked on his hair, pulled at his hips. A muttered spell, so much less pleasant than his own fingers, spread lubricant around his anus and inside. Lucius’s fingers spread his cheeks, making way for the cock Severus had just sucked. “You should have been born a girl. Then you’d only be a whore, instead of a perverted pouf, trying to turn real men into robelifters.” Lucius always taunted Severus while fucking him. “You know you want this.” Lucius’s hand twined into Severus’s hair again, pulling his head up. It hurt, but it beat having his head forced into the pillow. Lucius’s taunts dwindled into single word insults as his thrusts speeded up. “Whore. Cocksucker. Pervert. Slut.” Severus screwed his eyes shut and concentrated on the cocks in his hand and his arse. Lucius ripped a handful of hair out as he came. Severus followed, in spite of the pain.

For the handful of breaths it took for Lucius to come down from his orgasm, Severus poked around the man’s mind, looking for clues to Voldemort’s plans. That ended abruptly, as usual.

“Get out, slut.” Lucius punctuated the command with a jab of his elbow. “MacNair wants you next.”

#

Severus avoided the staff common areas for the rest of the week. Harry’s touch, though unwelcome, had been gentle, even without comparison to the touches Severus had become used to among the Death Eaters. Severus didn’t know what to think. A treacherous part of his mind insisted that he’d know exactly what to think if Harry had directed that sort of careful attention to, say, Fleur. He refused to acknowledge it. Love, or even friendly lust, wasn’t for his sort. He’d learned that lesson before Harry was born.

#

The Monday following The Incident, as Severus had begun to think of it, a parcel post owl swooped over the staff table, dropping a large, lumpy package next to Severus’s plate. The card hanging from the string hung open just enough to allow him to recognize Harry’s scrawl. Severus tensed, but made no move to open the package. He wouldn’t give Harry the satisfaction of watching him open it. Minerva looked at it and then at him, but said nothing. Filius, on his other side, just about bounced in his attempts to get a glimpse of the card.

“Who is it from, Severus?” Filius had never been able to control his curiosity.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Severus’s voice retained its customary sneer. He concentrated on finishing his eggs.

“May I look, then?”

“Certainly not.” Eggs finished, he stood, glowering at the few students foolhardy enough to be staring at the staff table. He swept the package from the table before Filius managed a charm that would ‘conveniently’ turn the card towards him. “Excuse me, Headmistress. I have more important things to do than sit about gossiping.” Minerva nodded, almost succeeding in suppressing a faint smile.

Severus didn’t miss Harry’s look of mingled hope and disappointment as Harry’s eyes followed him from the Hall.

#

To Severus’s annoyance, one of his first years managed to transfigure her books into boxes and came to him for help reversing the process. By the time he’d restored Miss Finch’s books, he had no time to investigate Harry’s gift before his first class of the day. In fact, lunchtime arrived before he found a spare moment.

Facing Harry without knowing what the gift was was clearly out of the question. After ordering a house-elf to bring his meal to his quarters, Severus picked up the card. A muttered spell released it from the string. It fell open, the cramped hand surprisingly easy to read even years after the author’s last Potions essay.

Dear^Dear Severus,  
What I did was entirely unforgivable. Words can’t express how much I regret the amount of alcohol I drank, and how badly it affected my actions. I won’t beg for your forgiveness. Merlin knows I wouldn’t forgive myself, were our positions reversed. I can’t forgive myself. Please, Severus, believe that I didn’t intend to hurt you when I showed up at your door.

The attached item is a feeble attempt to atone. It can serve either of two purposes. First, if you wish to speak to me, simply say so to it. I will hear you and be able to speak with you, without imposing on you, if I’m alone. Second, if you don’t want to use it for that purpose, it can be exchanged for the pet of your choice, subject to Minerva’s approval. Simply say “I’d like to exchange you for” whatever you’ve chosen.

Apologetically, Harry

Severus stared at the letter. If he understood Harry correctly, his gift was one of those blasted mirrors Black and Potter had had. Severus picked at the string holding the wrapping on. Harry had certainly wrapped enough padding around the mirror to cushion several of the things.

When the last of the knots came loose, the package stirred. A slender, plush snake slithered out of the brown parchment. Alternating bands of Slytherin green and silver marked its fluffy surface and two ridiculous eyes stared up at Severus. It blinked once, and then lay still. Severus reached a cautious finger towards it, but whatever had animated it seemed to have vanished the moment it freed itself from the packaging. The plush felt deliciously soft against his skin, silky and cool. His touch turned to stroking. Now all he had to do was decide which of its purposes suited him.

#

Severus kept the snake on his desk over the weekend. It watched him while he graded, though its eyes never moved. He thought about the pets he’d never had. Harry had said the pet of his choice. Surely a cat, perhaps one of the spotted cats he’d seen when he travelled to Egypt as a child, would meet with Minerva’s approval. The wizard who’d noticed him watching them had claimed that they could track down and catch any vermin, magical or not. Or perhaps a Kneazle, sensitive enough to protect his precious storeroom from the horrid nuisances that masqueraded as students. A Runespoor would come in handy for potions ingredients, as well as for sheer beauty. Trite though it might be, Severus had a weakness for Slytherin’s mascot’s deadly grace.

Severus studied the plush snake, ridiculous both in texture and the way its hard plastic eyes stood up above its snout. If he used it to talk to Harry, would that invalidate the other option? He had to know before he made his decision, and using the snake to ask Harry was clearly out of the question.

As soon as he finished grading the last of the essays, Severus scrawled a note on a scrap of parchment. 

Mr. Potter: Are the two purposes mutually exclusive? --SS

Rolling the parchment tightly, he tapped it with his wand to seal it, and then sent it through the Floo to Harry’s quarters.

#

He should, he realized belatedly, have left himself some grading to do after writing his note. Now he was stuck with little to think about other than the implications of Harry’s gift.

#

Severus had time to replay the feeling of Harry’s hand gliding over his trousers approximately thirty-seven and a half times before a scrap of parchment tumbled from his Floo. Not that he had been counting. He ignored the wriggling sensation in his stomach as he unrolled Harry’s answer.

Severus, using it to talk to me will not prevent you from exchanging it later. Unfortunately, the Gift Certificate Charm I worked out with Jonah’s will transport it to his shop if you invoke it, so you can’t exchange it and then use it to talk to me. Yours, Harry

Severus glanced at the plush snake still sitting innocently on his desk. Jonah’s, that must be Jonah Hanson’s Specialty Breeders. From what he knew of their reputation, they would be able to find or breed any pet that Minerva would approve. He could, if he wanted, have a half-Kneazle Egyptian Mau or an even more fanciful crossbreed.

Severus’s fingers drifted over to touch the snake again. Its ridiculous eyes stared at him, surrounded by the soft plush that his fingers wanted to caress. How many soft things did he have in his life? Irritated with his own maudlin musings, Severus jerked his hand away from the snake.

“I want to talk to Potter.”

The snake blinked and raised its head. Harry’s voice said, “Hello, Severus.”

“Why did you choose this ridiculous toy, Mr. Potter? Your father and his dog were content to use the traditional mirrors.”

“I thought you might appreciate the relative anonymity of voices alone while we talk, Severus.” Blast the man, he sounded amused, rather than hurt or insulted. 

Severus scowled at the snake. “Once again you decide in your arrogance to make decisions for others, Mr. Potter.”

“I... I hadn’t thought of it that way, Severus. I’m sorry.” Now Harry sounded taken aback, at least, if not hurt. Severus spent a moment savoring that reaction. Before he could come up with a cutting reply, Harry spoke up again. “I think I can manage to allow you to see me, provided... Just a moment, Severus.”

Severus could hear some rustlings, and then a few muttered words of Latin. The snake on his desk shivered, a ripple plowing through the plush.

“That... may have done it, Severus. If you want to see me, tell your snake, and if my little snake can see me, you should be able to see me as well.” Harry’s voice sounded farther away than it had before.

“Very well. I want to see Mr. Potter.”

The snake’s pupils vanished as its eyes turned a pale blue. On the desk, a hazy scene took form. Harry sat at his desk, chin pillowed on intertwined fingers. He looked uncertain. Severus studied him in silence.

“Severus? Are you still there?”

“Of course. Do you mean to tell me your brilliant invention won’t allow you to see me?” Severus invested his words with every ounce of sarcasm available.

Harry smiled. “I’d have to cast that charm on your snake for that to work. Even if I’d thought of it earlier, if I’d cast it without your permission, you never would have forgiven me.” 

Severus snorted, but grudgingly admitted that Harry was almost certainly correct.

“How do I end this conversation, Mr. Potter?”

Harry’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and erased the faint lines around his mouth. Severus thanked Merlin under his breath that Harry had given him the gift of this distance. Sharing a room with that smile without doing something rash would tax his acting abilities. “Just say good-bye to me, Severus.”

“Very well. Good-bye, Mr. Potter.”

The snake rested its head back on his desk, but the illusion of Harry’s office remained. Severus sat for a long time, watching him grade. Finally, when the Gryffindor hand on his clock clicked over to “Out After Curfew”, he tore himself away from the image. “I don’t want to see Harry.” Gryffindors were so predictable.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another dinner.

Severus found time to watch Harry on Tuesday evening after grading, on Wednesday night before his patrol of the hallways, and on Thursday just after supper. Each time, Harry seemed entirely unaware of Severus’s scrutiny. If he glanced at the snake on Severus’s desk while grading, Severus told himself that he was simply looking at something beyond the spell’s vision. Perhaps a clock.

On Friday, Severus spoke to his snake as he settled in to grade the last of the sixth year required essays on the ethics of Polyjuice Potion. “I want to see Harry.”

The hazy Harry who appeared in the air next to Severus’s desk was not behind his own desk. Instead, he appeared to be slouched in a more comfortable chair suspended several feet above the floor. Severus’s snake looked up at him. Severus deducted a point from the elder Miss Tensley’s essay for concentrating entirely on the consequences of being caught using Polyjuice, scrawled an ‘O’ at the top of the parchment and set it aside. Harry seemed to be talking to Severus’s snake. Harry’s ghostly hand stroked through its head. Severus couldn’t tell what he was saying, but there was a sadness around his eyes. “Disgusting!” Severus didn’t know if he meant Harry’s emotion or his own response to it. He snapped at the snake, “I don’t want to see Potter.”

Harry disappeared, and Severus finished his grading without any further emotional upwellings. Having succeeded in raising Slytherin’s average grade and lowering Gryffindor’s, Hufflepuff’s, and Ravenclaw’s, however, he found himself at a loss. He had filled four consecutive evenings with Harry-watching. He was woefully behind on his journals, but couldn’t concentrate on them with his usual skepticism. Not even in his favorite chair. Not even with a glass of his favorite scotch.

Throwing Potions Quarterly at his spare chair with a vigor the admittedly idiotic article on mint in common healing draughts didn’t quite deserve, Severus strode back to his desk. “I want to speak with Mr. Potter.”

“Severus! I was beginning to think you’d decided to exchange your snake-”

Did Harry really expect him to believe that Severus could exchange the snake without Harry being any the wiser? Severus would never have failed to include a tracking device in such a gift. “Yes, well, I have a, that is, wouldyoucaretojoinmeforsuppertomorrow?”

Severus had time to begin cursing himself for ten kinds of fool in the ten seconds before Harry said quietly, “I would be delighted, Severus. Where shall I meet you?”

“My quarters, half past six. If that suits you.”

“Perfectly. Thank you, Severus.” Harry’s voice sounded as if the dratted man were smiling. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Potter.” Merlin, Severus knew the war had damaged him, but he’d never expected to turn into a sentimental fool.

#

Severus couldn’t decide if he’d been a fool for giving himself too much time before supper with Harry or too little. He spent half an hour trying to get his desk properly transfigured into a dining table, one without drawers, and another half hour trying to figure out where the draught that had teased his ankles for several decades actually came from, in the vain hope of stopping it. Finally, he decided that he’d been a fool simply for inviting Harry to supper at all, but by that time it was too late. He had a bare fifteen minutes to change into his least worn robe.

#

Severus might as well not have bothered to change. Even his least worn robe looked like something Lupin might have worn next to Harry’s. Without being flamboyant or obscene, the dark fabric managed to showcase every asset the younger man had. Severus tried not to blush as he wrenched his eyes away from the flare of Harry’s shoulders, only to be caught by the smooth velvet of his waistcoat. 

“Do come in.” Severus clipped his words short, turning to lead the way to the table.

“Thank you for the invitation, Severus. I hadn’t expected...”

“I am not as familiar with the dining establishments of Edinburgh as you are, and I prefer not to be seen by the students.”

“Ah, of course.” Harry sat in the chair Severus indicated. Why had the brat been given the grace Severus had had to work years for?

Harry began the conversation with the safe topic of the previous afternoon’s staff meeting. Severus tried not to notice how often the conversation sputtered and died as the meal progressed, and resolutely ignored how many of those silences were his own fault.

“Severus?” Harry poked at his crème brûlée. “Severus, you’re so tense that it’s giving me a headache.”

“You’d best leave, then.” Harry actually looked irritated, and Severus found himself irrationally pleased. The whole evening was giving him a headache, and he was firmly convinced that if he never shared another quiet supper with Harry Potter it would be too soon.

“I’d much rather try to help you relax. May I give you a shoulder rub, Severus? You really need to relax. I promise I won’t do anything presumptuous.” Severus opened his mouth to refuse, but his neck chose that moment to spasm painfully.

“I suppose Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix any damage you do. Oh!” Severus lost much of his bite as Harry began gently kneading the cramped muscles of his shoulders. Harry chuckled as Severus closed his eyes. He shouldn’t be letting his guard down. He tried to remind himself that Rosier’s touch had always been gentle at the beginning, but his body began to relax anyway. It had never been good about heeding the warnings of his mind.

“As I was saying,” Harry continued talking as if they were still seated politely at the table, instead of touching in a manner that would cause Minerva’s eyebrows to rise if she witnessed it. “I was wondering if you had any plans for the summer.”

“I planned to stay as far as possible from my idiotic colleagues and make the best of the pathetic excuse for a lab this school offers. As usual.” Harry’s ministrations rather dulled Severus’s sarcastic tone, but Severus couldn’t work up enough indignation to rid himself of those gentle hands.

“Ah. I thought I might go back to the Bay Area. If I don’t need to spend the summer looking for work, that is.”

“Surely you have people tripping over themselves to employ the Boy Who Lived Twice.” Severus couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. When Dumbledore, Harry, and Tonks had managed to kill Voldemort thoroughly, he had made overtures to several research companies, but none of them had been interested in hiring an ex-Death Eater, even one with not only the Wolfsbane Potion but also the potion that had made the victory possible on his resume.

“Actually, most of the people I’ve talked to are very honored but claim they couldn’t possibly afford to hire me. They either don’t believe me when I say I’ll work for the same salary they’d pay anyone else, or have some reason they don’t want to share for not wanting me. Of course, given what I’ve found out this year, it could just be the fact that I’m gay.” Harry, Severus noted, said this with no trace of self-pity in his tone.

“Typical Gryffindor idiocy to attempt to get yourself sacked from this job, then.” Severus relaxed enough to lean his head back against Harry. The warmth of Harry’s chest relaxed his shoulders further. Severus tried to ignore the tension beginning in his groin.

Harry actually laughed. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it. Anyhow, I thought that, maybe, if you wanted to, you could come with me to San Francisco. I asked Russ, and he said that he’d be thrilled to give you a tour.”

“And all I have to do to earn this rare privilege is accept your sexual advances?”

Severus found himself suddenly unsupported as Harry leapt back.

“No! Severus, I’m sorry if anything I said gave that impression. I would never- Ugh! That wasn’t my intent at all, Sev- I’ll just go, before I dig myself in deeper.” Harry sounded genuinely horrified. Severus could only stare as Harry retreated out the door.

#

Severus didn’t move from his seat as the house-elves cleared the table and lit his lamps. Had he misread Harry’s intentions? He had thought Harry meant to court him. He couldn’t have misread the dinner invitation, the ‘private show’, the gift... Unless, had Harry been looking for simple friendship, and only groped Severus because he was drunk?

Severus burned his shame away with anger. Harry should simply obey the social conventions for their kind, and not try to blur the lines, pretending that they could court like normal people.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be posting later chapters as I get around to it.


End file.
